Let Your Heart Sweet Heart (Be Your Compass When You're Lost)
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: Elsanna: It doesn't matter that she hasn't shared contact with her sister in over a decade; Elsa thinks of her all the time. Elsa thinks of Anna every day. (AU. Icest. No one's forcing you to read it.)
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_ So, this is my first Elsanna fic – and, for that matter, it's my first fic in the _Frozen_ fandom, period. I've been reading a couple stories over the past few days, thanks to Jaime (and, if you're reading this, I think thanks are in order?), and this little nugget just occurred to me. I'm still fleshing out the characters and trying to give them their own, distinct voices, but let me know what you think. I want Elsa and Anna to be in-character (or, at least, as much as they can be within the context of an **alternate universe** ) and I'm happy to accept advice on what I can do better. Keep in mind, however, that this first chapter is a prologue, of sorts; future chapters will likely involve more dialogue, but I'm just setting up the circumstances, here, so please be patient with me.

All that being said, I have an ongoing story in the _Pitch Perfect-_ verse _(Burn the Day)_ that is occupying most of my free time, right now. I don't know when I'll update this next, if it will be tomorrow or six months from now, but I was so excited to write this that I couldn't bear to keep it shoved in a dark corner of my hard drive, like so many other little pieces. I hope you enjoy it, and, if you do, please spare a moment to review; I'm much more likely to update this within a decent time frame if I know that someone (hopefully multiple someones) are deriving pleasure from my work. Thanks for your time!

Onwards!

* * *

When Elsa sees her first – sees her sister; sees her _Anna_ – she's almost certain that it isn't real. It wouldn't be the first time Elsa's imagined her, after all. If she's perfectly honest, Elsa imagines Anna on a pretty regular basis.

It doesn't matter that she hasn't shared contact with her sister in over a decade; Elsa thinks of her all the time. Elsa thinks of Anna every day.

Elsa thinks of Anna every time she's in the grocery store, throwing a vacant stare down the candy aisle as she wonders if Hershey kisses are still her baby sister's favorites. Elsa thinks of Anna every time it snows, and she wonders if her baby sister is still as miserable at ice-skating as she used to be, when Elsa had held her hands and tried to show her the way, failing spectacularly when she'd fallen on her tiny bum and giggled up at Elsa with a shy, embarrassed, _'Oops,'_ as her cheeks somehow pinkened further. She thinks of Anna when a fairytale flickers through the guide list on TV, and she wonders how old her baby sister was when she eventually grew out of them, or if she ever even did.

She thinks of Anna all the time, and, sometimes, when Elsa is lonely or afraid, or even particularly happy, the platinum blonde thinks maybe that she can even _see_ Anna. Never fully, of course – just a flash of pretty auburn hair from the very edges of her perception, or a glint of that special shade of blue that has never existed for Elsa, outside of her little sister's eyes.

It wouldn't be the first time she's imagined Anna's presence when it isn't really there, so Elsa hardly bats an eye as she breezes her way through a crowd of students in the hall and thinks there's something familiar about the chipped necklace that catches the light and Elsa's eye, all in practically the very same moment. It's a cheap little thing, and it looks like it's probably only made from plastic, like something that would cost fifty cents in quarters from one of those child trap machines at the supermarket, where a kid could also choose to spend that wealth of money on a gumball, or a temporary tattoo, instead. The necklace was probably coated in some silver sort of paint, but it's mostly frayed, now, and the color underneath is black. It's in the shape of a basic, simple heart, but the chain it hangs from looks like it could be made of genuine silver, and, although it's incongruous, it probably isn't worth the amount of attention Elsa spares for it – but she can't help herself.

Anna had a necklace like that; Elsa knows, because she'd given it to her on Anna's sixth birthday.

(Elsa hadn't known it, then, but she'd only get two more birthdays with Anna after that, before life and tragedy ripped them apart.)

Their parents had bought all sorts of things for Anna's party, and they'd bought a couple of gifts for Elsa to sign her name on, too – but Elsa had wanted to give something special to her baby sister, all for her, that Elsa had bought all on her own. Being only eight, Elsa's funds had been few, but she'd wandered into a Claire's store at the mall, and had purchased a pair of necklaces very similar to this one for a grand total of three dollars and eighty-seven cents.

They had been matching, of course – which had been the trend, then, Elsa recalls with a heartbroken, lingering smile – and they had each read only one word across them: sisters.

Elsa had been a little embarrassed to give Anna the gift, especially after the small redhead had unwrapped a brand new Game Boy and about a hundred different games to play on it, but Anna had been nothing less than thrilled. Elsa remembers, even now, her sister's choked, elated squeal, and how Anna had just _insisted_ that Elsa press a kiss against it and hook the flimsy chain around Anna's neck herself, so that Anna could always carry Elsa and her love with her everywhere she went, forever.

The blonde remembers rolling her eyes, and she remembers smiling, anyway – because Anna could just be so _dramatic_ , sometimes, even at six, but Elsa had secretly been pleased, anyway. No matter what else happened, Elsa was Anna's big sister, and she was proud to be; it had made her young heart swell to know that Anna was proud to be her baby sister, too, and that she would prove it by wearing Elsa's necklace all the time.

Anna never took the damn thing off, except to bathe, and, even then, it was still a struggle to get it off of her.

With a sigh, Elsa shakes her head and shoves through her classroom door. It's the first day of classes, and Elsa – Ms. Weathers – has a fresh crop of seniors to educate in English Composition. The first day is always difficult, and, Elsa supposes, it likely always will be; it's difficult for the teachers to slip back into their roles after a three-month break from the school, but it's an infinitely more difficult shift for the students.

They're reluctant to be here, in the first place, and they retain as much of the carefree attitude of summer as possible, choosing to catch up and relentlessly chatter, instead of focusing on the new school year. It's understandable, but frustrating to teach through, which is why most teachers in the school allow a day or two merely for a syllabus review and a brief explanation of the class, and the material to be covered within it.

Her first two classes blow over without a hitch, the whispers of the male (and occasionally, though rarely, female) students being the only exception, but Elsa is used to this; she's only a couple of years older than most of these students, and Elsa knows, by now, that she is considered by some to be uncommonly attractive. She doesn't let it bother her, even if it makes her a little uncomfortable, and she proceeds with her introductions as though she hasn't even noticed the whispers at all.

Elsa's only a third-year undergrad, and she isn't paid to be here. In fact, Elsa initially had been reluctant to add the stress into her schedule, in the first place. Still, Professor Marlow – Elsa's Literature professor – had lauded praise upon all of Elsa's work, and had practically begged for her assistance; Mr. Crawley, the _real_ English Composition teacher at Arendelle High, is a dear friend of Marlow's, and he's growing rather old, and perhaps just a little bit senile. Grading papers is becoming more and more of a challenge, for him, and keeping track of his course schedule has essentially become a lost cause, without help.

That's where Elsa comes in.

She helps him finish grading, and she keeps the class moving at an appropriate pace by visiting once a week, and shuffling things around to be sure that all the material will be covered, and, though Elsa had certainly had her concerns, she's grateful for the opportunity. She's learned a lot, in the last year, and she hopes to learn more in the next couple, too.

Plus, the experience will look spectacular on her resume.

It's an all-around win, as far as Elsa is concerned – at least up until her third class, after which Elsa's opinion shifts drastically.

She's moving down the roster, calling out for attendance, when her breath hitches and a hard throb begins somewhere in her throat, refusing to give voice to the next name on her list. Because Elsa can _imagine_ all she likes – can catch sight of any _number_ of things that could remind her of her sister, or even make Elsa believe, even for a second, that her sister might actually be _there_ – but that's all in her head.

It isn't real.

It isn't a stark, boldly printed name at the very end of Elsa's roster that reads, **'Anna Weathers'** like it's just another student, and just another name.

Elsa's eyes dart swiftly upward, and she frantically scans the room for something, _anything_ familiar, and she finds it almost instantly. A pair of wary, turquoise eyes blink back at Elsa from the very back left corner of the classroom, and Elsa blinks in rapid succession as tears mindlessly well up in the sockets of her eyes.

She spares a thought – a very brief one – to consider that neither 'Anna' nor 'Weathers' are truly rare names to have, so, maybe, this Anna isn't even _Elsa's_ , but the thought is gone the very moment she stares into those beautiful, terrified eyes, and catches another shimmer from the chain around the girl's neck, because Elsa _knows_ this is her sister.

Elsa knows this is her _Anna._

She finally calls out the name, and has her answer confirmed when Anna merely lifts her hand into the air to indicate her presence. It's a struggle – perhaps the largest one that Elsa's ever faced – but she stumbles through the syllabus, like with every other class, and stills the violent tremoring of her fingers by clutching them tensely around the steel edges of her desk.

Anna doesn't speak for the entirety of class, and she even passes her turn when Elsa moves around the room, allowing the students to introduce themselves both to her and to their peers, if they choose to do so.

It's lunch after this period, so, when it ends, Elsa swallows and swallows and can't lift her eyes away from Anna, curled around her desk with most of her face buried in the crook of her elbow, only her eyes left visible; Anna doesn't move – remains perfectly still, just as Elsa does – but as soon as the last student (excepting Anna, of course) flees from the room, Elsa bolts toward it, locks the door, and spins around to place her back against it in an effort to catch her breath.

It fails.

" _Anna,"_ she breathes softly – incredulous, and reverent.

The redhead lifts her chin, resting it against her forearm as she pitches a very weak, very small smile toward the front of the classroom, where Elsa stands.

"Hi, Elsa," she murmurs shyly, and stretches her free hand up to sweep a couple of slightly greasy, red locks of hair away from her eyes.

"I- How can you- _Anna,"_ Elsa breathes again, because it's literally the only coherent thought she can form.

She stumbles several steps forward, and keeps pushing her feet forward until she's moved down Anna's row and hovers uncertainly a desk's length away.

Elsa's imagined this moment every day since she'd last seen Anna, but, now that she's in it, Elsa doesn't know how to behave, or what to say. There's so much to tell Anna – so much to _ask_ Anna – and Elsa doesn't know where to start, or how to segue into it. All Elsa knows is that her heart is racing furiously beneath her breast, and it feels so difficult to breathe. Her lungs feel like there's ice inside, and every time she inhales, it numbs through her body until it moves in her head like an ice cream pain, and all Elsa can think is that, _finally,_ she's found her.

She's found her Anna.

"I- I don't…" Elsa stammers, shaking her head and her blonde braid along with it. "Anna, please, I – "

"It's nice to see you, too," Anna twists her mouth into something that should be a smile, but it doesn't glimmer in her eyes the way that Elsa remembers.

But that's okay, Elsa tells herself quickly. It's been years, and of _course_ Anna's different. That's okay. Elsa's different, too.

"I've _missed_ you," Elsa chokes, as tears flood her eyes and drip instantly across her cheeks without warning.

It's just- this is overwhelming, and Elsa is so, _so_ happy, but she's nervous, too; Elsa hasn't been a part of Anna's life for such a very long time, and, even if she hadn't meant to be, Elsa is to blame for that.

She's afraid.

She's afraid Anna won't want to know her, anymore. She's afraid Anna's built a life without her, now, and that she won't be interested in renewing a relationship with her sister at all. She's afraid that Anna's forgotten nearly all of what they'd shared together, and that Anna- doesn't _need_ her, anymore.

It's a difficult thought to bear, but it's one Elsa's considered before. Anna had been only eight, when they'd separated, and Elsa hadn't kept her promises to call, or to write. She'd let Anna go in the only way she'd known how.

"You look good," Anna tells her softly, with eyes bright with damp tears. "Are you good?"

"I'm- yes," Elsa gasps out with an elated, winded laugh. "Yes, I'm good. Are you, Anna? Are you good?"

Anna's expression wavers, and she shrugs from beneath an oversized hoody. Elsa's smile falters as she really takes Anna in. Not just her eyes, or the so unique shade of her hair, or the smattering of freckles that have plagued Elsa's nightmares intermittently over the last ten years; Elsa eyes as much of Anna as she can see, from the redhead's seated position, and she makes out a pair of oversized jeans to match the green sweatshirt Anna wears.

There are holes everywhere, and the materials have long-since faded from their original colors. Anna's shoes even bear tears in them, and Elsa can just barely spot a black sock peeking from beneath the toe of Anna's sneakers. A ratty belt keeps her pants from slipping away from Anna's slim waist, and the backpack at Anna's feet is so frayed on the left strap that it's only still attached by the padding.

Anna is beautiful, still – she's beautiful _always_ , Elsa thinks vehemently – but she's hidden behind clothes that are obviously drowning Anna's already too-thin frame, and there are deep shadows underneath and within those suspiciously dull, teal blue eyes.

And Elsa– she _is_ doing well, but- it's clear to her that Anna might not be.

"I'm okay," Anna tells her through a too-bright grin. "I've missed you too, Elsa."

Elsa swallows again, hesitates, then glances at the clock. There isn't enough time for all the things she wants to say, or all the subjects Elsa wants to cover; there's only twenty minutes left of lunch, and, even if Elsa's last period is for planning, Anna definitely still has class.

"Would you- Would you like to go for coffee? After school, of course? Or we could do something else? There's so much we've missed, Anna, and I – " Elsa chokes, and shakes her head weakly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting- and I'm just not sure how to – " She breaks off again and weakly raises her hands in the space of air between them, indicating her loss for words.

"It's okay," Anna comforts carefully. "We can do this another time. I have to get to class," she explains unnecessarily, standing and pulling her backpack across her right shoulder.

Anna hesitates for several moments, wavering forward on her feet before shying away again seconds later, and Elsa watches her repeat the cycle a half-dozen times before Anna throws her free arm around Elsa's shoulders and pulls her in for a hug that Elsa might think is too tight, if she hadn't dreamt of it happening exactly this way since she was still a child.

Only, it isn't the way Elsa dreamt it at all, because the hug lasts hardly to the end of _one-Mississippi_ before it's over, almost like it never even happened to begin with, and Anna pulls away like she's just folded herself around a burning flame, instead of her big sister. Anna coils her left arm protectively across her waist and avoids looking at Elsa entirely, whispering to her feet with heated cheeks, "I really did miss you, Elsa," before she slips past the blonde without a single sound, even in her footsteps, as she shuts the door to the classroom noiselessly behind her.

Elsa inhales a long, shaky breath, and collapses in her chair at the front of the room as she tries to puzzle through everything that just happened.

On the one hand, Elsa has never been so ecstatic or relieved or grateful in her life, but, on the other, Anna- is not at all the way that Elsa remembers. The blonde has always known that, if she ever found Anna again, the girl wouldn't be the same as Elsa had known her to be as a child. Still, Elsa remembers Anna as loud, and interactive, and open-hearted; she remembers her little sister as carefree, and bright, and impossibly determined, even at only eight years old.

But _this_ Anna – the one Elsa had only _barely_ managed a conversation with, just now – bears very little resemblance to that girl. The little she has seen of this Anna is quiet, and isolated, and guarded; she is anxious, and subdued, and oddly unimpassioned. She smiles, but it isn't real; she shies away, even when she seeks affection.

Elsa remembers, even after their parents had died, the way that Anna could be heartbroken and devastated and innocently, childishly confused, all at once, and the way that, even then, her younger sister had sought constant solace by burrowing into the safeguard of Elsa's arms.

Anna could hardly touch her at all, just now.

She's hardly known this Anna for an hour, and, already, Elsa is sure that something is wrong. Only- Elsa isn't sure that it's her place to help, or even that Anna might _want her to._ Her attempts to schedule something – _anything –_ with Anna had gone unacknowledged, and Elsa isn't sure how else she can learn about Anna's life without Anna participating in conversation, with her.

Elsa tries very hard not to think that Anna just might not have any interest in sharing a conversation with her.

* * *

 _It's three months into their stay at the group home when ten-year-old Elsa realizes something very important._

 _None of the adopting parents ever take more than one child at a time._

 _She's told it happens, sometimes, and that they try to keep siblings together whenever possible, but- Elsa's counselor makes it clear, when she asks, that it's a lot harder to place two children than one. It breaks little Elsa's heart, but it plants a seed in her mind that only grows when, a couple months later, she understands something else that's important._

 _The younger kids are usually adopted first._

 _The night she realizes it, she holds her baby sister in her tiny cot, cradling Anna's head against her chest and stroking her fingers through her soft, red hair, and Elsa buries her nose into it and cries all through the night, after Anna falls asleep._

 _She doesn't want to do this, and she doesn't think it's fair, but she's the big sister, and that's something Elsa's always been proud to call herself. She takes her duty to Anna very seriously, even at ten, and, now that their parents are gone, it's Elsa's job to take care of her, because no one else will._

 _So, even if Elsa doesn't want to, and even if it's the worst thing she can even bear to think about, she tells her counselor that she should find different homes for her and Anna, both._

 _Elsa's counselor asks why, but Elsa sniffles and sniffles and tearily tells her, "I'm not enough family."_

 _They share several sessions over several weeks, and, every time, Elsa tells her the same thing. Because it's the truth. Elsa is ten, and she worries about Anna more than anything on the planet, but Elsa's whole world has shattered, too, and she doesn't know how to be what Anna needs; she's too little, and too afraid, and Anna needs a_ family. _She needs love, like Elsa's, but she needs it from someone who can take care of her, and who knows how to make her stop crying, because Elsa can't figure it out._

 _Elsa can barely stop crying, herself._

 _Eventually, her counselor agrees, but nothing goes the way Elsa planned it._

 _The next four couples don't look twice at Anna, and the fifth isn't much of change, in that regard – but the fifth is different in another way._

 _The fifth couple – a strict, but honest man named Harvey, and his quietly intelligent wife, Danielle – aren't interested in a baby or a toddler, or a messy adolescent; they come to the home looking for an adolescent to guide into young adulthood, hoping to provide an education and a safe home in which that adolescent can grow for a few years before paving the way for college._

 _It's the first couple Elsa's seen who isn't looking for a baby, or as close to it as they can get, and it confuses Elsa, a little. But they ask to see her, and speak with her, and they come back a couple of times to check in on her and say hello, and the next thing Elsa knows, they're adopting her._

Her _, but not Anna._

 _She sobs quietly into her pillow every night she's in their house for months, but she studies like she's told, and she doesn't make a fuss. Elsa's always been quiet, and dedicated, but the Petersons don't ask much of her; they only request that she keep on top of her schoolwork and be home by eight, and, other than that, they mostly stay out of each other's way. They aren't terribly affectionate, and, sometimes, as she grows older, Elsa feels more like a charity project than anything else, but the Petersons are always kind, and they treat Elsa well. It doesn't necessarily feel like a family, but Elsa has a roof over her head and four-star meals on a regular basis, and every now and then, when she's done well in school, Harvey and Danielle spoil her a little and take her out for ice cream and a movie._

 _Still, when Elsa thinks about that time in her life, all she remembers is the death grip of Anna's arms around her neck when she'd told her baby sister 'goodbye,' and Anna sobbing into her chest and begging her not to go._

 _But Elsa hadn't had a choice. She'd_ requested _separate placement, and she isn't worried about Anna; everyone loves Anna._

 _She knows her baby sister won't be here much longer, and Elsa can't give up the only chance_ she _might get for being adopted, too. She has to go with the Petersons, even if it's the hardest, most terrible thing she's ever done or felt._

 _When Elsa thinks about that time in her life, all she remembers is prying Anna's arms loose from her neck and pressing her mouth into Anna's temple, softly murmuring, "It'll be alright, Anna. I'll see you again, I promise."_

* * *

Elsa wakes from her troubled slumber and sighs deeply.

This isn't the first time she's dreamt of the orphanage, and she's certain it won't be the last, but- it makes a deeper impact, today, than she's allowed it to in years.

She knows it's because she's seen Anna – has seen how poorly she even _might_ be doing, in Elsa's absence – but that does nothing to alleviate Elsa's guilt. She'd only been ten, and she'd only asked for what she'd thought would be best for _Anna_ , but now she isn't sure that the whole thing hadn't colossally backfired, somehow.

Elsa doesn't know what's happened to Anna, or what her life has been like for the past ten years, but, given Anna's appearance and demeanor, Elsa has to assume that time hasn't done her little sister any favors. As a result, Elsa's left to wonder about every aspect of Anna's life since their separation.

Part of her might have feared that Anna had never actually _been_ adopted, but Elsa knows this can't be true; she _knows_ it, because, the very day that she'd turned eighteen, Elsa had trekked across three state lines to the group home with every intention of taking Anna home with her, if that had been the case. The receptionist, however, had told Elsa that Anna had already been placed, and that the adoption was a closed one.

Her files were inaccessible.

With access to her parents' funds, since coming into her inheritance as an adult, Elsa squares away enough money to set herself (and Anna, if she ever finds her) up for college, and she keeps enough for five-years' worth of rent money, just in case – but Elsa uses the rest to hire a private investigator, who proves to be entirely ineffective.

That had only been last year, and Elsa had already hired a second one, but she probably needs to stop paying him, now.

Elsa's found Anna all on her own.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsa never skips her classes. She understands that it's something most college students do, at some point or another, but Elsa never has.

Partly, she just doesn't see the purpose; a few extra hours of rest or a little bit of free time might be nice on occasion, Elsa supposes, but, ultimately, all the missed work must be made up sometime (if the professor will allow it to be made up at all), and Elsa would rather be there, anyway, to be sure that she doesn't miss out on any participation credits.

It doesn't hurt, either, that the Petersons had made it clear to Elsa, from her very first day with them, that school is something never to be missed, with the sole exception of genuine, miserable illness. They'd taught her the value and importance of a decent education, and, while Harvey and Danielle hadn't offered Elsa much advice outside of that, she had taken the sentiment to heart.

Besides, when she'd first moved in with them, school had been Elsa's greatest distraction, and she'd had no interest in bailing on it, in the first place.

Skipping classes is something that Elsa simply never _does,_ but, today, she makes an exception.

The blonde is worried about Anna; she's so worried about her, in fact, that she's hardly slept – and the little rest she had actually managed to achieve had been plagued by nightmares of her past, or by horrific notions of all the terrible things that could've happened to her younger sister, after they'd been separated.

Something is very, very wrong, with Anna, and the more Elsa thinks about it, the surer she feels.

She thinks about the way Anna shies away from touch, and the way that her smile is just a little bit broken; she thinks about Anna's tattered clothing, and the general thinness of her frame; Elsa thinks about the soft timidness of her voice, and how Anna hadn't once used it to interact with her peers; she thinks about her sister's avoidance, and the way that she'd outright _lied_ to Elsa – even if she'd done so poorly – when she'd told the blonde that she'd been 'okay.'

It's becoming more and more obvious that Anna is anything but 'okay,' and Elsa is so worried for her that she can't even think straight.

Elsa's classes honestly can't even rank as a concern for her, right now; school is no longer the blonde's first priority, because Anna will always, _always_ take precedence, for Elsa. She is her older sister – the only blood family that Anna has left, even if she's found another, by now – and Elsa will always take her duty to Anna very, very seriously. Elsa only wants to take care of her, and make Anna safe, and happy.

It's just that- Elsa isn't entirely sure how.

She doesn't know what's wrong – doesn't even have legitimate confirmation that something even _is_ wrong – and Elsa can't possibly know how to take care of Anna when she doesn't even _know_ her, anymore.

It makes Elsa feels inadequate; Elsa feels like she's failing her baby sister all over again, and it makes her remember all those weeks from so very long ago, when Elsa had repeatedly told her counselor that she just _isn't enough family_ , for Anna, and that doesn't know how to love her big enough.

Elsa wants desperately to believe that Anna had found someone who could, but she can't bring herself to put any significant measure of faith in that, because her baby sister – her _Anna_ – doesn't seem like she's been well-loved at all.

The blonde has so many questions; so many things that direly need answering, if only so that Elsa can decide whether her concern is even justified. The problem is that Elsa can't answer any of those questions without Anna's help, and Elsa isn't meant to make another appearance at the high school until next week. She honestly isn't sure that she can make it that long, and, even if she could, Elsa is positive that she doesn't want to.

The last thing she wants is to make Anna uncomfortable with her, but- she wonders if it would truly be an awful idea to find the redhead after school lets out, and re-extend her offer for an outing.

Elsa spends most of the morning debating all the ways that this could go wrong for her, but, eventually, she decides that Anna had never strictly said _no_ to Elsa's invitation; she merely hadn't replied to it. It might be that Anna simply isn't sure _how_ to spend time with Elsa, anymore, and, if Elsa is honest, the worst Anna could do is decline the blonde's offer, anyway.

It would shatter Elsa's whole heart if Anna actually did, but the very worst thing that _Elsa_ could do would be to give up on Anna before she's really even tried.

It's sometime around two when Elsa determines that she's more than willing to make the effort, and that she'll risk everything if it means even a _maybe_ from her baby sister, but there's still an hour before Anna will be released from classes. The blonde needs to occupy her time somehow, because, if she doesn't, she'll second guess her decision a thousand times over before it's even time to leave.

Elsa flips open the lid of her laptop to email her professors, both to apologize for her absence and to politely request that she be allowed to make up any missed work, but she's a little surprised to find that they'd beaten her to it.

The blonde is a wonderful student, and diligent, but Elsa knows that she is also quiet. She has a very good relationship with Professor Marlow – probably because his class is counted among Elsa's favorites, and the man is a superb teacher – but she only rarely speaks to the others outside of class. Still, they're obviously concerned for her, because they've already attached Elsa's missed work into a few separate emails, and two of them have made suggestions regarding which students Elsa should approach in order to get the most elaborate copies of the day's notes. Elsa's professors don't outright ask for the cause of her absence, but they wish her well and hope she'll return for classes later in the week.

Elsa thinks it probably pays to be a good student, because she knows few others would receive this kind of treatment.

Still, she emails them back to profusely apologize, and she thanks them earnestly for both their concern and the allowances they've made for her. The blonde appreciates the effort they've gone to on her behalf, and she vows that her next papers for each one of these professors will be nothing short of perfection.

When she's finished, she glances toward the clock – not that she truly needs to; Elsa's hardly taken her ice blue eyes away from the little minutes ticking away at the very corner of her computer screen – and she notes that she has half an hour to get to Anna, before she'll miss the girl entirely. Elsa is determined not to let that happen, so she snags her keys and a light, blue sweater from her closet before she trips down the stairs and tightens her fingers around the wheel of her Camry.

Elsa takes a minute – just a literal sixty seconds – to coach her breathing.

She's anxious, and her last meeting with Anna had only been brief. If Anna even agrees to come out with her, Elsa has no way of knowing if her little sister will even be _comfortable_ answering Elsa's questions. The blonde knows she'll have to gauge the situation as she goes, but she also knows it won't be an easy feat to suppress all that she wants to say, if that turns out to be necessary.

Still, Elsa reminds herself that all of this is for Anna, and that if it will do _Anna_ harm to discuss those things with her, right now, then Elsa will conceal any feelings she needs to. Anna's wellbeing has to be her only concern, and Elsa swears to herself, in that moment, that she will do anything and everything in her power to ensure it.

With a shaky, but still determined nod, Elsa pulls away from her apartment complex and drives in the direction of Anna's school.

* * *

Anna is one of the very first students who bursts out the doors, and she seems a little frazzled, too. Elsa almost hates to stop her, and wonders if she's picked the absolute _wrong_ day to try this, but she isn't sure that she'll be able to scrounge up the nerve to do it again.

If Anna is busy this afternoon, then they can always plan for another day, right?

Elsa inhales a deep breath in hopes to calm her nerves – and isn't surprised in the least when that effort fails – but, nevertheless, on her exhale she shouts Anna's name out of her open window.

The redhead stops instantly, tips her head in Elsa's direction, and frowns; Elsa has just enough time to worry that Anna might ignore her altogether, before her baby sister very slowly and very hesitantly begins making her way toward Elsa's car.

"Elsa?" Anna chews at her lower lip, bowing at the waist to peer inside Elsa's window, all while anxiously flitting her eyes first to her left, then to her right, before, finally, those skittish turquoise orbs lock onto Elsa's. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," Elsa furrows her brows in bemusement. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Anna swallows and shyly shrugs her shoulders. "I, um- I just thought you only came here once a week, and so I got worried that you called for me and thought maybe that something might be wrong, y'know? But I guess I feel a little silly, now, because you're looking at me like I'm crazy and shouldn't have asked in the first place, so maybe you could tell me why you're here, anyway, even if nothing's wrong," Anna rambles as her cheeks heat furiously, and Elsa just- _smiles._

She smiles slow and tender and entirely relieved, like her whole world had stopped revolving, for a while, and like Anna makes it move again – because, as much as her Anna has changed, _finally_ , there is something in her that Elsa recognizes.

Anna babbles.

"I was actually hoping that we could spend some time together," Elsa tells her, and is nothing short of surprised when her voice doesn't shake in the same way that her hands do.

"Oh," Anna blinks, and Elsa's nerves ping wildly in anticipation. "Really?" Anna inquires skeptically. "Because, I mean, I know you asked before, but- I kind of thought that maybe it was out of obligation, or something?"

"It is," Elsa frowns instantly.

"Oh," Anna says again, and Elsa watches on in horror as her bony shoulders sink inward. "Elsa, I don't- I don't want to be an inconvenience for you, y'know?" Anna's watery eyes flutter away from Elsa's instantly, bouncing to and fro like there's no other point for her to focus on, but like she's determined to find one, anyway. "You can consider your obligation filled," Anna rasps quietly, and offers a thin smile that doesn't at all offer support to her words, the way that Elsa thinks it's meant to. "It's alright. _I'll be alright_ , Elsa," she promises, but Elsa has to lean closer to hear it, because it can hardly even be counted as a whisper, it's so soft. "You don't need to worry about me anymore, okay?"

Elsa realizes her mistake very quickly, and is immediately appalled by her thoughtless reply.

"Oh, Anna," she coos gently, and reacts on pure, _entirely_ inappropriate instinct, stretching her left arm through the window to cradle her baby sister's cheek in her palm. Anna's face is warm, where Elsa's fingers are cold – the way it always was, when they were kids – but Elsa forces herself not to think about that, now; she has more important things to address. " _No,"_ she insists earnestly. "You are my _sister,"_ Elsa swallows thickly. "You are my baby sister, Anna, and you always will be – and I _love you._

"I'm sorry," Elsa hesitates briefly. "I'm sorry if that feels soon for you, but, Anna – my Anna," Elsa sighs delicately and shakes her head. "You have _never_ stopped being my sister, and I have _never_ stopped loving you, and that makes me worry for you, maybe now more than ever. I'm obligated to you because of that love, but only because it would break my heart not to know you when I have the chance. _I love you,_ Anna. _Always_ ," Elsa vows, and has never meant anything so profoundly as she does this.

Elsa doesn't know how else to say it.

Anna studies her intently, and Elsa is nervous, but she doesn't duck away. Her sister is looking for something; something like truth or love or– Elsa doesn't know, but she won't move a single inch until Anna finds whatever it is that she is looking for.

This could be Elsa's only chance at this – at creating something here, with Anna – and she's already messed it up once. Elsa won't do it again. She _can't_ mess it up again.

Elsa could never forgive herself if she lost Anna again.

"I- I have something to do, right now," Anna tells her with conflicted eyes. "And I- I want to spend time with you, too, Elsa, but I'm already late and – "

"I could drive you," Elsa swiftly suggests, and tries to fight the mild flush of warmth that she can feel trying to paint her cheeks with color. "If you want," she adds carefully.

Anna swipes her tongue across her lips, glances toward an analog watch strapped around her wrist, before arching her neck behind her, in the direction she'd been trying to move toward when Elsa had stolen her attention. The motion carries Anna's cheek out of Elsa's range, and the blonde lowers her hand to rest against the door of her car, because she isn't entirely sure what to do with it, anymore.

Her palm feels oddly bereft.

"You really don't- I mean, you really wouldn't mind?" Anna asks nervously, and gnaws at her lower lip all over again. "I wouldn't normally ask, but – "

"Anna," Elsa interrupts softly, with the very fondest of smiles, "you _didn't_ ask. I offered, remember? Of course I don't mind," she tells her sister warmly. "I'd love any time I get to spend with you, even if it isn't much. Please," Elsa sighs out greedily, "let me take you."

It takes a second, or twenty-two – and, really, Elsa scoffs to herself, it's ridiculous that she's counted them in the first place – but Anna eventually nods, and moves around the car.

Elsa waits until she's buckled in, and she notices quickly that her little sister pulls the backpack in her lap closer to her chest, until Anna's arms are hugged around it like the thing is her only shield in the world. It breaks Elsa's heart that Anna is so painfully and obviously insecure in her presence, but it isn't something she can dwell on, now.

She has to focus on rebuilding, and that means giving Anna every assurance that she can; it might take time for Anna to be at ease with her, but Elsa will give her all the time in the world.

When Elsa finally begins to drive, conversation is stilted and awkward. Anna points when Elsa needs to turn, and occasionally speaks the directives aloud, but Elsa is too anxious to speak, at first; she's terrified that she'll say the wrong thing.

The blonde has no idea how to start a conversation with Anna.

She knows absolutely nothing about her sister. She doesn't know Anna's interests, or her fears, or the things that make her happy. Elsa doesn't even know her laugh, anymore; doesn't know how to tickle it from the depths of Anna's stomach, or how to recognize it in a crowd.

Elsa knows nothing, but she has to start somewhere.

"You're a senior?" She tries, finally.

Anna merely nods, but she smiles – just barely; just faintly – and slyly reminds, "I'm in your class, Elsa."

"It isn't _my_ class," Elsa tells her, because that feels important, somehow, and even if it wasn't, it's the first thing Elsa can think of to keep Anna talking. "Mr. Crawley just needs help, sometimes."

Anna peers out through the window, and Elsa knows, because every chance she gets, she flits her own eyes over to find her, just to be sure that Anna is still there; that Anna is still _real._

"I thought you might've skipped some grades, and got your degree early, or something. You were always the smart one," Anna says quietly.

"You were smart, too," Elsa frowns.

"Not like you," Anna replies softly, and moves her head and eyes to find Elsa.

Anna's smile is sad, and barely there, anyway; it's thin and broken and weak, and it abruptly makes Elsa think that she's touched a sore spot. Still, Elsa doesn't know how to navigate around it without knowing what Anna's feeling, or even what fuels it, because she doesn't know where the safe zones are, or what they're made of.

Ultimately, Elsa says nothing.

"Turn left here, and pull up in the lot," Anna instructs, eventually.

Elsa frowns her confusion, because, of all the places she might have thought to take Anna – if she'd even had enough space in her head to consider it, in the first place – she wouldn't ever have expected an elementary school.

"I have to pick up my foster brother," Anna explains carefully. "We're a little early, now, because I usually walk, and, obviously, that takes a lot longer, but – "

"You _walk_ here?" Elsa sputters instantly. "Every day? Anna, that's nearly six miles!"

Anna flinches, and shrinks down into her seat like she's preparing to sew herself into the fabric beneath; the redhead lowers her gaze toward her lap and tucks her lips between her teeth, the tips of her ears burning with color.

Elsa inhales sharply and does her best to calm her outrage.

She has to think.

Elsa had told her sister that she's been worried, and she'd told her sister that she loves her, no matter what, forever, but Anna is still clearly unsure; Elsa can't truly blame her for that, because, even if they _are_ sisters – and even if Anna still considers Elsa to be hers, too – they hardly know each other, now, and her word probably means very little to Anna. It also likely doesn't help that Elsa had all but snapped her concern straight out at Anna, like it's somehow her fault, when Elsa can almost guarantee that it isn't.

"I'm sorry," she tenders carefully. "I didn't mean to yell, and it probably isn't my place, anymore, but- is that really safe, Anna? Or healthy? Isn't it exhausting, for you?"

Anna shrugs, but doesn't ever reply.

Elsa studies her quietly, and doesn't feel an ounce of the awkward that weighs in the air between them. All she can see is the way that Anna looks so very _small;_ she looks like a child, chastised and humiliated and flushed in upset, ordered to the very corner of the room – the most isolated place in the entire universe.

And Elsa cannot fathom how this has happened.

Elsa cannot fathom what horror could possibly have twisted her wild, free-spirited baby sister into this heartbreakingly- gorgeously- _perfectly_ broken girl before her. Elsa cannot fathom what might have been done to her to steal the ever-present sparkle from the farthest depths of Anna's pretty, turquoise eyes, or what has shaped her sister's precious optimism into this- beautiful, wary _thing_ that expects the very worst out of every moment, even this one – this one, where Anna has been offered nothing but Elsa's painfully overwhelming concern for her.

But, right now, in _this_ moment, Elsa is the one who has made Anna retreat, this way, and Elsa needs to fix it.

"Anna," she breathes sadly, and shakes her head minutely from side to side, "I'm _sorry,"_ she chokes, staggered. "I don't mean to hurt you. I- I only want to know you, and to be with you, but I don't- I don't understand. Please, Anna," she begs softly, "help me understand. Tell me what you need; I will be _anything_ you need," Elsa vows fiercely, and devotedly. "I just- I need for you to tell me how," she pleads, soft, and desperate.

It takes a very long, anxious moment for Elsa, but, gradually, Anna lifts her head.

She sweeps red waves of unwashed hair carefully away from her eyes, so that she can look at Elsa through them. Anna is searching her again – Elsa can see her evaluating; can see the thoughts clouding the color of her sister's eyes – and Elsa is so afraid that Anna will not find what she needs; that Elsa does not have the only thing Anna desires, when Elsa would offer everything she _is_ if it meant even the smallest sliver of Anna's trust.

"Do you really not know?" Anna whispers finally, brows knitted in sudden, earnest confusion, like she is disbelieving and sad and curious, all at once. "Elsa," she laughs, soft and breathless and affectionately reproachful, "you're the only thing I've _ever_ needed."

And, just like that, Elsa can't breathe.

Elsa can't regain her bearings, and, in the time she spends trying, Anna shuffles her backpack between her feet and scrambles over it to climb from the car. Vaguely, Elsa registers a small boy – maybe six, at most, with ruffly black hair and dark brown eyes, skin nearly paler than Elsa's own – running out to hug himself around Anna's waist with fervor, and… _there_ –

There is the first true smile Elsa has seen on her sister's face in years, and it lights Elsa up with warmth from head to toe. Elsa doesn't know this boy, and she doesn't know where he comes from, but she also doesn't care; Elsa is endlessly grateful for the cheer he's put in her baby sister's cheeks, and she is instantly fond of him.

Slowly, Elsa gathers herself and exits the car. She isn't sure that she's meant to, but- Elsa wants to be apart of this; Elsa wants even a second, just to spend with Anna while she is genuinely, earnestly _happy,_ and it doesn't matter that Elsa isn't the one to have made her that way.

She hasn't even finished rounding the hood of her car when the small boy tackle-hugs Elsa, too, and it's a shorter embrace than he had shared with Anna, but no less enthusiastic. Elsa offers a few startled blinks, and pats him on the back in uncertain confusion; this is a very affectionate child, and Elsa can't help but wonder if that's normal, for someone his age.

But then the boy speaks, and, with how excitable he sounds, Elsa just can't imagine that he could ever be anything _but_ affectionate.

"Hi! I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ So, chapter two happened, because you guys are great. Seriously, I wasn't expecting that kind of response for a first-time fic in the fandom. Thank you! That being said, I'm still figuring this story out – characterization, style, balance of dialogue and inner monolgue, etc. – so please continue to be patient with me, and let me know how I'm doing. Thanks again! : )


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi, Olaf," Elsa greets cautiously, probably several moments too long after the boy's enthusiastic, initial welcome. "I'm Elsa. It's very nice to meet you."

She's wary, because this boy – however small – is important to Anna; he's the first truly important thing in Anna's life that Elsa's been made aware of, and Elsa wants desperately to make a decent impression. It doesn't matter that Olaf is young, or that he's evidently (and automatically) fond of even _strangers_ ; Olaf is important to _Anna_ , and that makes him important to Elsa, too.

"Elsa?" Olaf beams instantly, and latches onto her hand with both his own. " _Queen_ Elsa?" He inquires eagerly, bouncing on the toes of his feet, secured in a pair of light up Power Ranger sneakers, as his head swings enthusiastically to find Anna, searching for confirmation.

Elsa furrows her brows, shifting her gaze to Anna's, too, in an attempt to communicate her confusion.

Anna flushes brightly, shuffling her weight over her hips as the redhead folds her arms protectively across her chest.

"Yeah, well," Anna shrugs, although the motion is a little too rigid for Elsa to believe it comes naturally, "sometimes I tell him stories. It's just for fun," Anna averts her eyes, shyly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "and it helps him sleep, most nights. So I just- made some stuff up, one night, and Olaf– he really loved it, you know? So I had to tell it over and over again, and now it's sort of, like- a thing, or something? It's his favorite story," Anna explains quietly, her eyes trained firmly on her worn out shoes.

Elsa vaguely wonders why Olaf's shoes aren't worn out, too. Maybe he grows too quickly, in such a young stage, to fit into his old ones.

"Yeah, and Anna's the princess of Arendelle, and you're the queen, and I'm a _snowman!"_ Olaf giggles furiously, slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughs.

Elsa wants to tread carefully, because, though she doesn't know the reason, this topic of conversation is clearly causing her baby sister some anxiety, and Elsa wants more than anything to relieve it; still, she doesn't quite understand _why_ Anna feels that way, particularly because all that _Elsa_ can feel, right now, is profoundly relieved, and warm in a way that has evaded her since she was a child.

It's just a silly bedtime story, and Elsa can guess that Olaf is probably the only one to have ever heard it, but it doesn't matter; Elsa feels giddy, almost, and the emotion stems from one simple fact.

 _Anna didn't forget her._

After ten years apart, and in spite of all the letters Anna had written (birthday letters, and Christmas letters, and just-to-say-hello letters, spanning over six _years,_ until Anna was fourteen) that Elsa never once replied to, Anna had _remembered_ her; she'd remembered Elsa well enough – and fondly enough – to make her older sister the queen, in one of Olaf's stories, and even if it's only a small thing, it still feels like the grandest thing in the world, to Elsa.

"I'm the queen, you say?" She quirks a smile down at Olaf, and lilts her head to the side in interest, her platinum blonde braid toppling over her right shoulder as she does.

"Uh-huh!" Olaf nods vigorously. "And you have magic ice powers, and you made me – but not _me,_ really; just snowman me!" He rambles excitably. "And you froze the whole kingdom all by accident and ran away, to keep everyone safe and live by yourself in an ice castle, but Princess Anna goes to find you, and at first you didn't even _know_ you'd made the whole kingdom have winter!" Olaf clasps his little hands in front of his chest and blows out a soft, delighted sigh. "But Princess Anna– she just loves you so much that you can turn the forever-winter into summer again! But it's okay and I don't melt, because you use your ice magic to keep me cold for the whole year long!"

And Elsa's smile flickers, just a little.

While she is grateful – so very, very grateful – to have been remembered, Elsa can't help but wonder if this whole story is just one giant metaphor.

Elsa had never run from Anna (and had certainly never run from an entire kingdom), but- she _had_ left her baby sister behind. She might have done so with the intention to keep Anna safe, and loved, and happy, but Elsa is coming to realize that all the things she'd expected for Anna to have in life, the redhead might never have truly _gotten._

A frigid sliver of fear sweeps the length of Elsa's spine.

Perhaps Elsa's absence had _felt_ like an endless winter, for Anna. Perhaps Anna had believed, for a time, that if she'd only loved Elsa hard enough, or strongly enough, or _big enough_ , that Elsa might return to her, and bring back summer; that Elsa might use the magic of her returned love to bring warmth and light and prosperity back into Anna's life when she'd needed it the most.

"I see," Elsa swallows her panicked reaction, resting her eyes, just for a moment, to gather herself.

But Olaf is only a child, and he doesn't understand, so – naturally – he tells Elsa more of the tale that she'd unknowingly been the co-star of.

"Yeah, and Princess Anna walks all the way to the very, very top of the North Mountain just to find you! And I have to tell her to knock, because Princess Anna is afraid you won't want to see her, and she doesn't want to knock, or doesn't remember how. I don't remember," Olaf shrugs carelessly. "But then you send her away, and we're attacked by a snow monster, because you tell us to go away – but it's okay! 'Cause Princess Anna keeps trying, and she saves you at the end with true love! It's the best one of all of Anna's stories!" Olaf boasts proudly. "Maybe she can tell it to us, later. Anna always tells it the best," he grins toothily.

"I'm sure she does," Elsa chokes out roughly, and clears her throat. "Anna's _always_ told the best stories," she tells Olaf softly, but keeps her eyes fixed on Anna's and doesn't allow them to move away.

There is so much that Elsa needs to know about her baby sister – and so much that Elsa thinks she doesn't even _want_ to know, at this point – but, if Olaf is telling this story right, and if it _is_ some kind of metaphor, then the very first thing that Elsa needs to know is exactly what kind of life she'd left Anna to live, all on her own.

An endless winter can't rationally represent anything good.

* * *

"You live here?" Elsa asks, unintentionally astounded.

It's a nice house – and that's the very first thing that Elsa takes the care to notice about the place.

It's in a pretty, suburban neighborhood, with a brown fence and dark blue shutters, and the whole thing is built of dark, red brick. There's a dog house in the well-kept front yard, and a gorgeous chocolate Labrador curiously pokes his head out from inside when Elsa's car pulls up in the drive. There are beds of gardenias lining the pathway to the front door, with a couple of small bushes and trees to offer a little variety, and, overall, the house seems fairly welcoming.

Immediately, the only thing Elsa can wonder – harsh frown and narrowed eyes in place – is why her baby sister is dressed practically in _rags_ , when her foster family can not only afford a place like this, but can also afford to keep it maintained.

"Yeah," Anna shrugs eventually in answer, but doesn't meet Elsa's eyes even once. "Olaf's family– " _Olaf's_ family, Elsa notices instantly, and with startled, penetrating sadness. _Not Anna's._ "They have a nice house, don'tcha think? I mean, sure, the dishwasher's trying to call it quits again, and maybe the carpets could be replaced – "

"Oohh!" Olaf claps his hands elatedly, and dreamily sighs, from where he's buckled in the back seat of Elsa's car. "And maybe Daddy and Mama could even give Anna a real room of her very own!"

"Um… Yeah. I mean, right. Wouldn't that be nice?" Anna laughs awkwardly – a little too loud, and a little too shaky – patting nervously at the ends of her hair, and Elsa's heart feels like it shatters, exploding outward in her chest until the shrapnel pierces through every part of her and _stings_. "But, I mean, I've definitely stayed in worse, and it's not- it's not so bad, you know? Or maybe you don't, but, either way," Anna babbles furiously, "it's a nice house, y'know?

Anna doesn't even have a real room.

Elsa doesn't know what a 'fake' room might look like, but, if even _Olaf –_ a six year old _child –_ finds Anna's living conditions unsuitable, Elsa knows that she will certainly not find them acceptable for her baby sister.

And, Elsa wonders, what in the freezing hell is even going on, inside this house? Why does Olaf have the right to clothes that fit him – or, for that matter, clothes that aren't _torn_ – when Elsa's baby sister does not? Why does Olaf seem so loved, when Anna doesn't? Is it because Anna isn't theirs? Because Anna was adopted? Is it because Anna is damaged? Or did they damage her, here? What kind of people is her younger sister even _living with,_ and how could Anna compliment their home when they've clearly treated her like she is _nothing?_

How could _anyone_ treat Anna like she is _nothing?_

Elsa's heart seizes, and her eyes pool with unbidden tears, but she honestly can't help herself; she does her best to conceal the reaction – exactly the way that she'd promised herself she would, if necessary – but nothing about this situation is sitting well, with Elsa, and she doesn't know how to proceed. She still has no confirmation about the way that Anna's being treated, but Elsa's heard enough to make a few assumptions, and every single one of them is positively _screaming_ for Elsa to take her baby sister away; to steal Anna back to her own two-bedroom apartment, just to know that she's safe.

Elsa doesn't know Anna, yet – not really; not in the way that she wants – but she's _trying_ , and Elsa has had _years_ to learn how to love Anna better; Elsa knows how to love her baby sister big enough, now, and maybe she always had, but she'd just been so afraid – so young, and sad, and helpless – and Anna had needed _more_. Even at ten, Elsa had known that Anna needed more.

Elsa had done her very best to give that to her baby sister, when they'd been children, but- it's obvious to Elsa that it hadn't worked quite as well as she'd planned. Elsa wants to fix her mistake; she wants to give Anna everything that Elsa had ever imagined for her, and to make Anna feel not only loved, but _wanted,_ too.

She'd been too young to take care of Anna, before, but Elsa is older, now, and she has money; not a lot of it, but enough to keep her comfortable – and Anna, too, if her younger sister wanted.

The fact is, though, that Elsa _doesn't_ know Anna, and she can't just offer that up as an option; she needs to be patient, and to find out what's actually _happening_ in Anna's life before she begins taking strides to mend it.

Elsa needs Anna to trust her, and they just- aren't there, yet.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ I recognize that this is pretty short, by comparison, but I'm sort of working with the something-is-better-than-nothing concept for this fic, as it isn't my first priority. That being said, I still hope that you enjoyed it, because I'm growing fonder of this fic with every chapter I write for it. Let me know what you think, please!


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